


All Those Pretty Lights

by luxendarc



Category: Hollywood U: Rising Star
Genre: Marriage Proposal, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6568159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxendarc/pseuds/luxendarc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You try to freeze time with your mind, wanting to savor every fraction of every moment, waiting for Chris to ask you the question you’ve always wanted him to ask…”</p><p>An alternative ending to the French Kiss date with Chris Winters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Those Pretty Lights

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic about eight or nine months ago and originally only posted it to my tumblr. I recommend reading this fic after you're at level 24 in HWU. Forgive me as I slowly move some of my fics onto ao3. Gender-neutral MC.

The view of the Trocadero from Jules Verne is incredible. Even at so great a distance, you can’t help but admire the fountains in its gardens lit up in the same tavernier blue that blanketed the sky. You sit back in your seat after you’ve eaten, the praline filling from dessert still stuck to your palate. You can almost imagine the dull bubbling of the fountains and the white noise lulls your mind.

Your entire trip in Paris has been pleasant but overwhelming. Chris has thoroughly swept you off your feet and whisked you away from Hollywood, from Megan, from Professor Hunt, from the Circle and the Valmonts, and from the set of _Permanent Wound_ , if only for a short time. He has planned every detail of this vacation perfectly and the atmosphere couldn’t be any more romantic. Your problems seem so far away, so small and insignificant as your gaze rakes across the Parisian cityscape and you sit across from a man you love.

And yet, you cannot relax completely. Chris’s promise at the beginning of the week of a surprise has kept you on edge. And ever since you snooped and discovered that black box left out on the nightstand earlier, the back of your neck has felt feverish. If your suspicions are right, the anticipation of the moment, of _the_ question, is eating away at you and making your legs bounce ceaselessly under the table.

Your mind is reeled back inside of the restaurant by the chime and clank of dishes being cleared by your waiter. Chris thanks the waiter as best as he can in his broken French. He turns to you with a sheepish grin so bright in the candlelight that you cannot stop yourself from smiling back. His joy is contagious. Chris sets aside his wine, leans forward in his seat, and takes your hand in his, looking deeply into your eyes to ease you out of the comfortable silence.

Chris practically _sighs_ your name and your smile widens into a toothy grin. “I have something I want to ask you,” he says.

 _This is it._ You can feel it. The atmosphere feels so right _. Everything_ you have ever experienced with Chris has always been as perfect as this and you are calmer than you ever imagined you could be at this crossroads in your life.

“I know,” you whisper as you intertwine your fingers. You feel both of your pulses racing as you trace his thumb with yours and dig the heel of your hand into his.

The warmth drains from Chris’s face and the corners of his mouth sink. “You do?” he asks, trying to keep his voice level, and you find the little dip in tone endearing. But his apparent dismay makes you second-guess yourself and you suddenly notice how sweaty both of your palms are as his grip slackens.

“Er, I mean,” you say, backpedaling, “I think I do.” You’re hesitant now. But then you spot Chris’s free hand grope at one of his back pockets and the incriminating motion makes you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding.

Satisfied that nothing is out of place, Chris recovers from his daze, clears his throat dramatically to make you laugh and readjusts himself in his seat, never dropping your hand all the while. He repeats your name and you press yourself up against the table to hold yourself back. “Yes, Chris?” The way you trill his name sounds too eager to even your own ears, but it fixes Chris’s boyish smile back onto his face.

You try to freeze time with your mind, wanting to savor every fraction of every moment, waiting for Chris to ask you the question you’ve always wanted him to ask…

“Do you want to go to the top of the tower?”

“Huh?” you blurt out a little too loudly. You feel like an utter fool as you start to stutter, trying to regain speech as Chris’s smile turns wicked, one eyebrow raised. “The tower?” You’re suddenly aware of nearby patrons glaring at you for shattering the intimate ambiance with your outburst. “Sure,” you say before you shrivel up within the arms of your chair and bow your head.

You feel childish for sulking in such a posh restaurant almost instantly. “I mean, yes, that sounds nice,” you say, trying to sound enthusiastic and elegant while your ears burn a bright red. Chris appraises you for a few long seconds more before laughing his full, warm laugh and placing a quick kiss to the back of your hand apologetically. While Chris calls over a waiter to bring him the bill, you take deep, careful breaths to settle down and swallow your disappointment. _Not yet. At the top, then, surely._

* * *

A brisk breeze seems to have cleared out most of the tourists from the second floor of the tower. It could be just that, but you also suspect Chris might have pulled a few strings when he leads you into the lift bound for the very top of the tower with no waiting in line and no other passengers. As soon as the doors of the lift slide shut behind the both of you, Chris sidles up to the box window and coaxes you over. The churning of gears and the distance from the ground growing greater every second makes you anxious and you huddle up next to Chris’s form.

But you are transfixed by the sight of the city before you. The sun had set while you and Chris were dining and now hundreds of lamps bathe the tower’s steely skeleton in golden light. The rest of the city seems to follow suit to combat the fall of dusk. The resplendence of buildings and landmarks, the glow of street lamps reflected in the Seine, and the sight of traffic weaving through the city streets below like spun gold awe you. Not until this night have you truly appreciated why Paris is called the City of Light.

“At night, they light the Tower up with all different colors.” Your mind is pulled back into the lift and you look up at Chris. “It’s truly spectacular,” he says, gazing into your eyes the entire time.

You’re overwhelmed, shuddering because of the view, the height, and the world’s most perfect man standing beside you. You feel lightheaded. You can’t believe that there was ever a moment in which you wondered if you truly wanted a future with Chris. School, the Silver Circle, Megan Moore, and even Thomas Hunt had all seemed to complicate everything in your life. And yet here is one man who has accepted you in spite of the many obstacles you have faced throughout your relationship. This man is so attentive to you and you know you can always tell him everything and anything without being judged. Chris has only ever been supportive of you and listened quietly while you’ve poured your heart out to him, its ugliest contents included. Chris is the type of man that others dream of.

Chris picks up your hand as you manage to tear your eyes away from the horizon long enough to watch the light and shadow play across his handsome features. Chris leans forward once to kiss a tear that you hadn’t notice spill from one eye. You calm yourself enough to directly look him in the eye again just as the lift finally churns to a halt. Chris gently leads you through the open doors and you step out onto a platform just above the quiet observation deck and below the drum of the tower’s beacon.

“The show should start any minute now,” he says, “and we’ll be right in the middle of it.”

Night sets in quickly, but it is by no means dark. Every spare light down the Champ de Mars has flickered on as if in expectation. You’re standing on the exclusive top floor of just the city’s tallest landmark, yet you could swear the two of you are at the very top of the world. Everything the light touches belongs to both you and Chris. The rush is all-encompassing. And yet you know in this moment the only thing you truly want is the man you’re standing with shoulder-to-shoulder, hand-in-hand, and a promise for the future.

A shiver runs down your spine and Chris stops pacing along the railing to shrug off his jacket and drape it over your shoulders. You don’t think you’ve ever smiled this much in your life. “Always a true gentleman,” you tease. “Thanks, Chris.”

He smirks at the compliment, sarcastic or not. “No problem,” he replies, and yet you see goose bumps running up his arms to his rolled-up sleeves. Chris pushes off the railing and turns toward you fully. “I would do anything for you.”

You want to tell him that it’s just a jacket, but he takes both your hands in his and his eyes look at you imploringly, pleading for you to give him a shot at giving you the world.

“In fact, I kinda wanted to talk to you about that tonight,” he says, swallowing thickly. You feel choked up as well. “ _You_ ,” he drawls, “you mean so damn much to me.” The raw emotion in the admission makes you want to break down crying because you have never imagined, especially after experiencing all the heartache of the previous year, that anyone could ever say that to you and have you truly believe them.  

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” Chris quavers. “I never thought I could feel this strongly about anyone.” Chris inhales sharply and looks down at your joined hands, shaking his head while you similarly try to compose yourself.

“Chris,” you whisper. You’re in awe at the man before you. There is so much you want to say, want to reciprocate, but you’re feeling dizzy as heat surges throughout your entire body and there is one word poised on the tip of your tongue.

You squeeze his hands in an effort to convey what your lips cannot. Chris doesn’t lift his head fully, but he gazes at your face for what feels like forever before he speaks again. “You inspire me,” he says, “and I can’t imagine living my life without you.”

And suddenly you do have other words ready to spill from your mouth. “Neither can I,” you say. Your words conjure up Chris’s bright, wide smile.

And with that, he palms at his pants pocket, pulls out that same lovely black box from the nightstand, and sinks onto one knee. It feels like the air rushes out of your lungs. You brace yourself with one hand on the railing to keep yourself standing. You knew this was coming, but actually seeing it play out before your own eyes when you have run it through your head over and over leaves you faint.

“Then you’ll never have to,” he sighs as he presents the box to you, pulling it open so you can gasp at its contents.

Inside is a beautiful silver band inlaid with diamonds. Your attention is lost as you admire every facet of every cut of the stones.

“Imagine, that is,” Chris quips.

Just above the ring you notice that there is an inscription embroidered into the inside lining of the box in an exquisite script with fine silver thread.

 _“Pardon my French, but doesn’t the word ’_ vengeance _’ have a nice_ ring _to it?”_

The box snaps shut and Chris straightens to his full height.

“The Benefactor sends his regards.” And Chris sends you up and over the railing.

The sleeves of his jacket whip around you and just as promised, hundreds, thousands of stars begin to twinkle across the face of the tower―

And then there is only darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the fic's post on my tumblr for full notes, including a link to a video of the light show that Chris and MC saw at the end. It really is very pretty.
> 
> (http://hwusophie.tumblr.com/post/122890844500/)


End file.
